“But what if he says Alaska or nothing? You’ve been with him all these years. You can negotiate. Right here at first I should do what I’m told,” Angel said.
“What you should do is follow your heart. If it’s not happy then you’ll be miserable wherever you are.” Travis hugged her before he went back out into the cold to oversee the derrick going up.
What about his heart? If they failed at bringing in a productive well, what would happen between him and Cathy? She’d never leave the Honky Tonk. Was he ready to take the Mingus office if Amos offered it to him? Or did he really want to go to Alaska?
A few hot and steamy kisses and I’m thinking of the future. What in the hell is the matter with me? I’m not a teenager. I’m thirty years old and I’ve been in love more than once. So what makes this one so different? Whoa, boy! I’m not admitting or saying that L word. No sir. Kissing that big tall blonde is one thing, and admitting that she’s becoming my good friend is all right too. We’re two adults, so if it leads to more than a few kisses, that would be fine. But I’ll fight the idea of falling for her. She’s a barmaid and I’m a wandering oil man. Her business is tied down firmly to a dance floor and a bar. Mine could move at any minute and I love it that way.
When he started home that evening the moonlight transformed bare mesquite tree branches into arms beckoning him to hurry. He parked in front of the trailer and checked Cathy’s living room window to find it and the Honky Tonk both dark. He’d never seen the whole place with no lights on at seven o’clock in the evening.
He headed out across the grassy area between his trailer and the Honky Tonk to see what was going on. Music filtered through the night air. At first it was barely audible but with every step it became louder. By the time he was halfway across the lawn he could hear the thump of the steel guitar and beat of the drums. He stood still and cocked his head to one side and then followed the sound to the garage located just south of the Honky Tonk. The door was cracked; he slipped inside and a loud blast of old country music blaring from a radio in the corner hit him in the face.
“Anyone home?” he yelled.
No one answered.
The only life in the place appeared to be from Highway 101 singing a song right out of the eighties and the bare lightbulb swinging from the ceiling. He closed the door and leaned against it. A big Harley Davidson motorcycle was parked at the end of the garage—shiny black with red leather seats and not a smidgen of dust anywhere on it with just enough room beside it for Tinker’s ride. A burgundy Chevrolet Silverado pickup was parked next to the cycle and a red Cadillac sat beside it. He walked down the length of the garage, wondering which vehicle belonged to Cathy. Surely she didn’t own all three. Why would she need a car, a truck, and a cycle?
When he started back a movement in his peripheral vision startled him. He looked between the truck and the Caddy, expecting to see a cat or a mouse or some small animal. A bright orange creeper eased out from under the truck a few inches at a time. He leaned on the hood and waited.
“What the hell?” Cathy gasped when she looked up from her back.
“I might say the same thing. What are you doing?”
She made no effort to get up. “Changing oil. What are you doing in here? You scared the shit out of me.”
“You change your own oil?”
“You don’t?”
“Hell no. I take my truck to the Chevrolet house and they service it for me,” he said.
“Well, little rich boys can do that. Little poor girls learn to change their own to save a buck,” she said.
He ignored her barb about rich boys. “You going to get up off that thing?”
“When I get ready. It’s draining. When it gets done I’ll replace the filter and drag the tub of old oil out. Ain’t no use in getting up until it’s finished. Won’t take but a minute longer.”
She wore a pair of stained blue coveralls that zipped up the front. “Harry” was stitched above the breast pocket. Her hair was braided into two ropes and she wasn’t wearing a drop of makeup. Travis thought she was absolutely stunning.
“Harry?” he asked.
“They belonged to my father. He taught me how to change oil, spark plugs, and tires. Said girls who didn’t know how to do jack shit had to marry early so they’d have a husband to do it for them. He didn’t want me hookin’ up with someone just because I couldn’t take care of myself.”
She slid back under the truck. What did he think he was doing, coming into the garage uninvited? She’d gone to the garage to work on her truck to take her mind off him and his kisses. She hadn’t had much luck in getting him out of her mind, so maybe there was something to that old adage about thinking of the devil and he would appear. She put in the new oil filter and carefully dragged the plastic pan of used oil out with her when she was finished.
“So how was your day?” she asked.
He leaned on the truck’s fender. “Busy like usual. I like to be busy so it’s not a complaint. Why do you listen to old music? I’d think you’d get enough of that on Monday nights.”
“When Daddy and I worked on his old truck or my old car he always had that old red radio up on the porch. I inherited it when he died and it’s one of my prized possessions. It was tuned to an oldies station and heaven help the person who changed the dial. Of course, it’s not the same station here in Texas but it’s still an oldies station that plays the same kind of tunes. Even Momma knew better than to touch it. If you’ll move, I’ve got to raise the hood and pour in the oil now.”
He extended a hand to pull her up and she took it. The electricity between them didn’t shock her as much as it did that first time he kissed her in the Honky Tonk, but it was still there. He pulled and when she was on her feet, he gave a little jerk that landed her right in his arms.
When he kissed her he smelled oil and tasted spearmint chewing gum. The weird combination was strangely heady. He inhaled deeply when the lingering kiss broke and drew her to his chest just like he’d done in the kitchen.
“I’ve got to go back out to the rig at midnight and stay until morning so I won’t be at the Honky Tonk tonight. I just wanted to find you and see how your day had gone. Now I know,” he said.
“You don’t have to be there until Friday.” She was amazed at the calm tone of her voice. It should have come out all breathless.
“Luther is coming tomorrow so that should speed things up. He does the work of three men and he’s good-natured. But I wanted to come to the Tonk tonight,” he said.
She wiggled. “If you don’t let me go, you are going to be covered in dirt.”
He held on tighter. “It’s worth it. I’ll wash and so will my clothes.”
She felt an odd peace in his arms. Every nerve tingled. The emotional roller coaster was speeding along at a breakneck speed. The excitement between them glued her to the garage floor in a red-hot melting pot of desire. But in amongst it all there was peace.
“I’ve got half an hour to finish this and get the Tonk opened. Tinker will be opening that big door on the end any minute. After that near miss this morning when Rocky barged into the office, I don’t think my nervous system could stand another, so I’m going to step back and you are going to leave. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
“That’s not very nice,” he said.
“That’s life. I hear a motorcycle engine coming across the parking lot.”
“Tinker won’t care if I’m in the garage.”
“Maybe not. But I don’t want to deal with him or anyone else tonight,” she said.
She stepped out of his embrace and the garage door rumbled on its way up. He brushed a hurried kiss across her lips and eased out into the darkness at the same time Tinker parked his cycle.
Chapter 10
Cathy didn’t open Travis’s bedroom door. She wouldn’t invade his privacy. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to take a peek inside his bedroom, but she’d been good all week. Every single time she went to the filing room or to the bathroom
she’d fought the temptation and emerged the victor at the end of the day. However, that afternoon when she went to the filing room the first thing she noticed was his door was cracked two inches. She went back to work because that blasted righteous angel whispered in her ear that she wouldn’t want him prying in her bedroom.
She ate three yogurts and a dip of chocolate ice cream in an attempt to appease the curiosity. None of it worked so finally she gave in to the devil and tiptoed down the hallway. She promised God if no one caught her invading his privacy that she would only peek inside through the small crack. She wouldn’t even sneeze on the door to open it a bit further. Propping her hands against the door jamb she leaned forward and peeked inside with one eye.
There was a book on the night stand along with his wallet, keys, and cell phone. His boots and jeans were in a pile beside the bed. She could see the edge of the big brown comforter dragging on the floor. Then a foot dangling off the bed. She jumped back and grabbed her heart with one hand and her mouth with the other.
Wild horses couldn’t have dragged her back into the office at the front of the trailer without another peek. If it was only open one more inch she could see better, but she’d vowed that she wouldn’t open the door. She had to stand to one side and turn her head to an almost-break-the-neck angle but she finally got the full view.
One hand was behind his neck; the other dangled off the bed. He slept in the nude and the sheet barely covered the necessities. What was it Cal said? If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all? She squinted to see more. His eyelids quivered and she wondered what he was dreaming about. His blond curls were mussed and he needed to shave. Six feet two inches of muscles all begging to be touched and she couldn’t take a step inside his bedroom. If the door was cracked a bit more and if she had the courage she could slip inside the room and into bed with him.
And what then? Why do you torment yourself by looking at what you should not have?
She backed away from the door and blinked a dozen times on the way back to her desk but couldn’t erase the image of him. She’d barely gotten settled into her chair when the front door opened. Her first thought was that she was glad she hadn’t had the nerve to crawl into bed with him or she’d have been caught. Her second was to take off down the hall and beg Travis to protect her from the man in the doorway.
A complete eclipse blocked the light and the man between her and the bright sun was as big as an army tank. He had to duck to keep from hitting his head. His arms were bigger than Dolly Parton’s bust and his chest would have to be measured in acres instead of inches.
“Afternoon, ma’am. I need the sign-in list for the trailers. I’m Luther.” His deep voice bounced around in the trailer like drum beats in an old metal building during a barn dance. She didn’t want to be around if he ever got mad and started yelling. The driller who’d slept with Luther’s wife had to be a complete idiot.
She picked up the list and handed it to him. “Chairs are in the kitchen. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, ma’am. Never drink that stuff. It’ll rot your pipes. Rocky tells me you own that beer joint. Need a bouncer on weekends?”
“Got one,” she said.
“You got pool tables?”
She nodded.
Luther bent over the desk and scribbled his name in lot number eighteen. The pen was a toothpick in his big paws. He had a mop of black hair and pecan colored light brown eyes. His face was as round as a basketball. He should have been playing fullback for the Dallas Cowboys instead of signing in as a roughneck.
He pulled a chair from the kitchen and sat down. “So you got anyone who’s any good at eight ball in these parts?”
Cathy expected the chair to smash but it didn’t. A vision of Luther in the Honky Tonk playing pool with Merle was too much for her brain. She shook her head to get it out and he took it as a no.
“So there’s no competition around?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. Must’ve been a hair on my neck. Thought it was a bug,” she lied. “We’ve got Merle Avery.”
“He pro or just likes to play?”
“Merle isn’t a he. Merle is a woman who is past seventy and she’d probably whip any pro you could line her up with. Her niece, Angel, is every bit as good. Merle says she’s even better but I think it’s a draw.”
“I haven’t met with Angel yet but I heard of her. Didn’t know she was good at pool. Where’s Travis?”
A slow burn started on her neck and rapidly rose to her cheeks. “Asleep. The trailer is both the office and his home.”
Luther tucked his chin into his chest and his whole body rocked in laughter.
“That funny?”
“Little bit,” Luther said.
“Why?”
“Travis usually has a fancy apartment.”
“Luther?” Travis said from the hallway.
He’d pulled on a pair of flannel bottoms but his chest was bare.
Cathy was speechless.
Luther held up a big hand. “Mornin’, Travis. Amos did good this time, didn’t he? Puttin’ us right here beside a beer joint. It’s probably some kind of test to see if we can work and party too.”
Travis yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I wouldn’t know. Maybe Amos is givin’ you boys a good site since he’s going to put you in igloos if this one don’t pan out. What was so funny that you had to shake the whole trailer and wake me up?”
“You livin’ in this trailer with the office. I’m goin’ to get set up and go take a look at the site. I hear the woman out there is a sassy bit of baggage but she’ll give you a glass of sweet tea anytime you show up at her door.”
Travis squinted at Cathy and spoke to Luther. “That’s right. Her name is Jezzy.”
“Can she cook?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“How old is she?”
“Mid forties,” Travis said.
“Well, I could get interested in an older woman. I’m pleased to meet you, Miz Cathy. Rocky says you’re hot as a two-dollar hooker.” He smiled.
She stood up and leaned across the desk right into his face. “Are you insulting me?”
Luther raised an eyebrow. “Whew! She is a tall one, ain’t she, Travis? No ma’am, I’m not insulting you. I’m teasing Travis. Livin’ in a trailer with a pretty thing like you in the front room all the time. I wouldn’t be wastin’ my time sleepin’ if you was this close to me. You dating anyone?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Honey, I’d be honored to take you to dinner any night of the week,” he said seriously.
“I work every night but Sunday. Doesn’t leave much time for dating.”
He stood and she looked up.
They locked gazes and she refused to blink. No man was going to intimidate her again.
Luther refused to let a woman stare him down and narrowed his eyes to make her blink.
“If y’all are going to fight, take it outside,” Travis said.
Cathy shot him a dirty look. “Don’t tell me what to do. If me and Luther want to fight right here and tear this damn place down it’s not your call.”
“You tear it down and I will move in with you and I won’t sleep on the sofa, darlin’. You decide,” Travis challenged.
Luther set the chair back in the kitchen. “Whew! You might have to call the Mingus Volunteer Fire Department if the sparks take a hold in this trailer. Looks to me like y’all need to either kill each other or kiss and make up. Take it from me, the kissin’ is a lot more fun.”
“This is our fight,” Cathy said.
“And darlin’, I got no doubt you can finish anything you start. Hope to see you both later.” Luther whistled as he left.
Cathy glared at Travis the minute the door was shut. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“I didn’t get in until ten this morning. We had a problem and I stayed at the rig all night working on it. What business is it of yours anyway?” he snapped.
She smiled. “And you think I’m a
bear in the mornings?”
“You are,” he protested.
“Go put on a shirt and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t want a cold Pop Tart.”
“I’ll cook a real breakfast.”
Travis spun around and headed down the hall. Another minute in her presence and he’d pick her up and stumble toward his bed. He pushed the door open and caught a whiff of her perfume. He whipped around but she wasn’t there and he heard pots and pans clattering around in the kitchen.
He slammed the door, peeled off his pajama bottoms, folded them, and quickly put the room to rights before he got dressed. When he opened a dresser drawer for a pair of socks he caught a glimpse of Cathy’s picture. He frowned. He didn’t have a photo of her.
When he looked at it the second time he realized it wasn’t Cathy but the cover of the second season of La Femme Nikita. He carried a few seasons of his favorite television series with him to the sites since he never knew what hours he would be working. He’d learned to be prepared for hours of boredom between shifts. The actress who played Nikita wasn’t as tall as Cathy, but they had the same face shape, the same wide lips, narrow nose, and long blond hair. Peta’s eyes were lighter than Cathy’s, but they both had long legs that started on earth and went all the way to the Pearly Gates. Cathy and Nikita were both kick-ass women. Travis had never seen anyone, male or female, bow up to Luther. Nikita wouldn’t even be that brave.
The aroma of bacon and coffee drifted down the hallway and into the bedroom as he dressed in soft jeans and a dark green thermal long sleeved shirt. He picked up the DVD box and looked at the cover. Peta was pretty but Cathy could beat her, hands down, in any contest.
“Can you cook? Well, Cathy can. I can smell bacon and Jezzy told me she makes an amazing chocolate cake.” He laid the box down and headed back to the kitchen.
The table was set for two with an arrangement of salt, pepper, jelly, butter, and syrup clustered in the middle. Travis poured a cup of coffee, leaned against the cabinet, and sipped it while she made omelets. When she started making pancakes he peered over her shoulder and said, “That smells wonderful. If you’ll cook for me every day I’ll work an extra night at the Honky Tonk.”
Hell, Yeah Page 13
